


A Town Made Of Clockwork

by Galathea Belikova (iBlameMatsuoka)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drabble, Dreams, Fictional, Gen, Original Characters - Freeform, Social Context, alternative universe, au!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5296580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iBlameMatsuoka/pseuds/Galathea%20Belikova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A metaphor about dreams and the struggle of being different. Omniscient narrator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Town Made Of Clockwork

_Once there was a place called Clocktown._

In Clocktown, life passed for everyone as the ticking of a clock.

Yeah, redundant, right?

 

In Clocktown, every single person woke every morning when the sun rose up through the hills. Everyone took their morning shower, their black coffee, their backpack, purse or briefcase and went out into the streets, to their jobs or their school.

 

Clocktown wasn’t a bad place. I mean, just because there is a lot of bad in one place doesn’t mean the place itself is absolutely bad. It’s just that… some people were bad.

 

Everyday, a child was born, and somewhere else, someone died. Of natural causes? Shot by a robber? In a hit and run?. Most likely. We can’t say for sure. Still, even with all the bad in Clocktown, people were happy, or at least they tried to be, they tried to celebrate their successes and they tried to laugh at all the bad in the world just to keep going. To keep surviving.

 

But, in one tiny part of Clocktown, there was a girl. She’s sixteen and lives with her parents, she also has a baby brother, and has everything a girl her age would want. Friends, a lovely house, a lovely family, a fancy school.

 

_Still, that’s not what she wants._

 

She’s different. She doesn’t settle for Clocktown. She dislikes it, in fact. She almost hates it. The corruption, the murders, the people lying and pretending and concealing their true natures just to take advantage of one another.

 

She thinks she’s special. She knows it. Even though her father forbid her to say or think so, she believes that she is nothing like the rest. She HAS to believe, because its the only thing that sets her apart from the ticking-machinery that is the routine.

 

Oh but she is indeed different.

She can see the stars and all universes beyond it without the moon shining in the sky and even without shutting herself into her mind’s eye.

 

_Daydreaming, they call it._

She daydreams. She misses people she never loved or knew and she feels homesick for places and worlds she’s never been to.

 

They say that you are born to work. To be another part of a big piece of machinery that constantly moves round and round making the clocks tick, the world move and the time, meaningless. They say you are born to lose, born to fall, born to walk on Earth with a mind bound to your skull.

 

_And like this, generations and generations have born, have studied, have worked, and have died in Clocktown. Not knowing that dreams can come true._


End file.
